Last night I picked a random article from my Instapaper queue to read to my wife as we were falling asleep 1 and picked 'The Woman Who Went to Every Country' by Alison Agosti in The Atlantic thinking it was going to be a story about travel.
"She's not in any pain," my mom said. She had the tone of a woman talking to a small child, and I was totally fine with that. She held my hand as we walked into her room and there she was. My grandmother was named Lenora. She was an accountant, and later a teacher, and she could play piano and tap dance. She had a big funny laugh and was a genuinely kind person, and now she was in hospital bed; tiny and crumpled and connected to a million machines, all beeping.
A year ago this week both my grandma and my wife's grandma passed away. I had posted my own thoughts on their passing in a blog post here after attending both funerals within a few days of each other. And now I found myself reading an article a year later telling the funny and sad story of someone else's Grandma passing.
And I kissed her forehead again and walked out, leaving behind a huge part of me. She has been a part of my life for my whole life and now she isn't. My mom called the next morning to say she'd gone. That it was peaceful. All the things you say. And that was that.
I miss my Grandma. I love the internet for reminding me of that.